More dweebiness...

So, my letter writing campaign to children so that they could have mail is not going ... well.  SIGH.  I had thought to just give up.  I mean, so few adults even respond to my missives sent via mail.  Face it, I am an anachronistic outlier, who also happens to be a social oaf masquerading as an introverted wall flower hermit.

Then, I thought I would make one final stab at it.  I thought I would try to make cards.  The key is, though, to make free cards.  AND to do so despite the fact that I have not a single artistic brain cell in my head.  AND the only magazines I had to work with—since I have no drawing ability of my own—are ones that are interior design ones.  Just perfect for children, eh?

I looked for images that I could pair with verses, I created a heart from torn pieces of red images, and I made one collage.  The best thing going for me is that I have a set of scissors that make different designs on the edges of the paper.  Of course, they don't work well with magazine paper.  SIGH.






After I got the card images applied to the rather ancient construction paper I have on hand, I worked on choosing verses, typesetting them, printing them, cutting them out, and gluing them to the inside of the card.  With nearly all of my creativity exhausted in the hours and hours and hours of card-making I had done, I fear my microscopic inscriptions might possibly leave something to be desired.  It's the thought that counts, right?

[I bet, if you gave it a thought or two, you could guess at least three of the verses/passages I chose.]

I still have three note cards and two letters that I wish to send out.  One of the letters is a reply to Gitte.  She sent me the most marvelous letter, smudged with hair color and chocolate, written as she went about her day.  Those are the best letters. The ones on scraps of paper or including bulletins or drawings or children's work.  Bits and pieces of the other person's life shared with me.  But these missives will have to wait until the morrow.

This work was exhausting, on top of having spent time weeding in two of the beds outside.  I had to take a nap in-between areas because I clearly am weaker than I was last year.  The fern bed was filled with maple tree seedlings. I must have cleared out more than a hundred of them.  And, I fear, I shall walk out on the more and find more sprouting.  Those darned winds.  I did discover this blessing:

I was absolutely certain that, between the brutal winter and the gutter pipe extension project, I would not have any ferns in the fern bed. I discovered one today.

I also found that the Easter lilies have decided to emerge from the ground.  Clearly, they have a long, long, long way to go before blooming.

Sadly, the weeping cherry tree has primarily gone straight to leaves, with just six blossoms gracing its branches.  The forsythia bush has not a single blossom, having already sprouted most of its leaves.  I suppose the long, long, long winter, with its many warm-ups and re-freezes discombobulated both of those.

While there are still a very good many brown blossoms zapped by the (hopefully) final snow storm of the 2014 winter, clearly a great many undamaged blossoms have opened on the magnolia tree!  The leaves are beginning to fall in what I term my Spring Snow, but I have a few more days of this glory-ing-white display.  None of the tulips have opened, but I do see more tightly closes buds coming up.  Hopefully, they will bloom.  The white daffodils are also remaining unfurled.  I talked to them today, reminding them how appreciated they are.  Perhaps, they will manage to find the strength to bloom.

I weeded the long bed on right side of the back yard.  My neighbor does not weed at all, so I have to fight a continuous battle against the weeds growing through the chain link fence.  The "bed" between her sidewalk and my fence is about six inches.  Six inches of weeds.  Once I was done, I sprayed Round-Up through the fence.  I am not sure if that would be a welcome action.  Surely, though, one would rather have no weeds than lots and lots and lots of weeds.  As I mentioned, later on, I weeded the fern bed.

One final yard note is that the new-ish variegated boxwood bushes that I planted in the front bed after Firewood Man removed those gargantuan bushes, have died.  I am stunned.  I paid top dollar for them, put them in with great soil and fertilizer, and kept them watered.  But they are deader than dead at the moment.  I am not sure when I can replace them ... maybe if I get some birthday money ... and I am not sure if it is better to have dead bushes out front or a totally empty bed.  SIGH.

Have I ever mentioned that Amos becomes really agitated when I weed?  Do you think he knows that it is work I shouldn't be doing?  Or is he simply fearful for my rather close proximity to the dreaded grass?

I also read my next repentance homework assignment, Matthew chapter 16.  However, I want to think about it a bit more and read it a few more times before I try to note my observations.  After all, the word "repent" is not in this chapter at all.  I have yet, though, to check out the other four translations I read in addition to my beloved NASB 1977.  Perhaps I am missing something here.  Something big.  Or small.  Something important.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!